The Pickaxe

Some commentary on I was a hidden treasure,
and I desired to be known: tear down

this house. A hundred thousand new houses
can be built from the transparent yellow carnelian

buried beneath it, and the only way to get to that
is to do the work of demolishing and then

digging under the foundations. With that value
in hand all the new construction will be done

without effort. And anyway, sooner or later this house will
fall on its own. The jewel treasure will be

uncovered, but it won’t be yours then. The buried
wealth is your pay for doing the demolition,

the pick and shovel work. If you wait and just
let it happen, you’ll bite your hand and say,

“I didn’t do as I knew I should have.” This
is a rented house. You don’t own the deed.

You have a lease, and you’ve set up a little shop,
where you barely make a living sewing patches

on torn clothing. Yet only a few feet underneath
are two veins, pure red and bright gold carnelian.

Quick! Take the pickaxe and pry the foundation.
You’ve got to quit this seamstress work.

What does the patch-sewing mean, you ask. Eating
and drinking. The heavy cloak of the body

is always getting torn. You patch it with food,
and other restless ego-satisfactions. Rip up

one board from the shop floor and look into
the basement. You’ll see two glints in the dirt.

—RUMI—

If you’re a regular human being, living in the depths of a very wintery winter in Rochester, NY, you may be feeling a bit over it. Winter is not for the faint of heart. It’s cold & snowy. We have to allocate extra time for the commute to work or other places we may have penciled in plans; appointments, meetings, dates with friends. We have to bundle up in layers to even go outside. We have to shovel what feels like endless amounts of snow. We have to deal with tricky & perhaps slippery roads, and other people trying to make their way on those same roads who may have a different way of navigating than we do. And if we’re one of those folks who has to arrive at work when it’s dark, and who doesn’t get home till it’s dark, wow…it can feel like we’re living in darkness, and it can feel exhausting.

But just because we may not follow the rhythms of a season, it doesn’t mean there aren’t lessons to be learned from noticing them. Winter is meant to be a season of darkness, of slowing down. In the fields, there’s a full quieting of the earth. The blanket of snow that covers the ground softens any and all sounds. It sends those of us who are lucky enough to have homes into them, and things get even quieter outside. Winter asks us to slow down with it. It says, you don’t need to overbook your calendar. You can stay in for a while and rest. You can listen to the quiet. You can get quiet yourself. Sometimes there are hidden treasures where we least expect to find them. I hope you can find some this season. ✨

NEW clinic alert! :) The Breath Clinic runs four Wednesdays in March (3/4, 3/11, 3/18, 3/25) from 5:30 - 6:45 PM. It's based on my "Inspiration: The Breath” workshop, but in this format, we’ll be able to spend even more time on some breath awareness practices in the context of different yoga poses and see the affects on the poses and on us! This clinic will include a bit more yoga philosophy; we’ll talk a little about the vayus and focus on certain energetic effects of these practices. For more info, click the button below.

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✨Here are some bits of inspiration from this corner of the world:

• The Art of Stillness in a Noisy World from Bobbi Paidel’s “Curious Yogi” podcast

• A wonderful conversation with my teacher Jules from "The Enlightened Anatomy” podcast

• A very cute idea from Emily Davis of Stratum Aesthetics: How to Create a Habit Menu :)